Burning Vengeance
by Galaxy-Monarch Frosty10001
Summary: In a mere test of power, the witch Pollutena demonstrated her prowess by annihilating a secluded tribe and killing everyone in it. Phoenix Fireheart, the youngest and only survivor of the tribe, armed with an ancient, ghostly weapon, sets off to avenge his tribe and eliminate the witch once and for all.
1. The Amateur and the Witch

**Author's Notes: Wow, I haven't posted in a long time, and I almost forgot about this site! But anyway, I've been watching Soul Eater lately and I feel it's a good universe to have fanfiction on, so I decided to create an OC and plot him in there. I've only watched up to episode 23 so I'll need to catch up to the end, but review and tell me what you think about it! Should I write more or scrap the idea? Thanks!**

* * *

"It's over Pollutena, you can't do anything now!" A boy, an amateur meister, exclaimed while jumping airborne about 70 yards. "Banshee, now!" He yelled to his weapon.

The raging boy found himself syncing with his weapon, intensifying and escalating their soul energy.

"Soul Resonance," They started in unison, the meister stretching the weapon's diameter as far as he could. "Blazing Turmoil!"

At around a yard's diameter, the infuriated boy empowered the disc in flames and threw it at the witch Pollutena in an arc like a boomerang. The disc surged with white, bright light at its centre, overflowing with sparks of blazing fire as it traveled to its target. She was surely about to be decimated, as they had disabled her limbs from moving. After all, it was fitting; the witch destroyed every part of the boy's history and he was about to finally obtain vengeance.

The witch, however, wasn't amused. She frowned, "You may have encaged me, Phoenix Fireheart, but you haven't prevented me from using my powers!" She retaliated, "And that will be your downfall!"

* * *

"I don't think I've ever seen this type of weapon before, and believe me, I've been around for a long time!" It was Lord Death.

"That weapon the child wields is extremely rare indeed." The other, a professor, said, adjusting the oversized screw loosely attached to the side of his head. The doctor stood next to Lord Death, analyzing the current situation between the novice meister and the unknown witch through the Death Portal. He studied their every move, occasionally fixing his glasses.

After a few moments, he began, "Lord Death, the boy displays skill, yes, but I haven't seen him around these parts. Is he one of our students?"

In response, the Grim Reaper conjured a rather comically large black directory and started to rummage through the book's enormous contents. Each page contained a pair of meister and weapon with related information known to step into the DWMA.

The professor, Dr. Stein, continued, "What's interesting is that the boy is fighting a witch."

The viewing portal shifted its perspective to focus on the witch, who donned an oversized black robe with an olive swirl trim. She wore an elongated pajama-esque cap on her head that split into two and dragged until her waist behind her. A cloud of protective vapor enveloped her body and as soon as the boy's weapon reached within her range, the gas quickly formed an invulnerable barrier that effectively blocked the meister's ultimate attack. The weapon shrinking as a result back to its normal state and lifelessly fell to the earth, almost as if the person behind the weapon didn't exist anymore.

"No! How did you...?!" The boy shrieked, his rage quickly transforming into fear while returning to the ground. Pollutena chuckled, sniffing the environment as she felt a sudden increase of power.

The two spectators, Lord Death and Dr. Stein, watched in curiosity, the Grim Reaper closing the large directory and returned it to nothingness. Stein readjusted his head-screw.

"The child is severely in danger Lord Death."

"Yes, I agree, the boy, a novice at that, cannot battle a witch single-handedly and expect to survive." Lord Death quickly thought of an idea and changed the viewing portal to contact a familiar meister-weapon pair.

"Maka, there is an urgent situation you must take part of." Lord Death then explained what had happened so far.

"You need to get them to safety; bring them here." He ended. "Yeah, we got it. No problem." was his response from a certain white-haired weapon, whose meister appeared irritated to his threshold of taking serious situations lightly.

The two observers switched to scrying the battlefield but noticed the situation was dramatically altered. The meister was struggling to regain freedom; his limbs were frozen, much like what he had done on the witch a few moments before. Pollutena simply smirked, slowly strolling to the disoriented boy, licking her lips and further strengthening the aura surrounding her.

A grown, crimson-haired man clothed in a black suit hastily interrupted the spectators. "So is it true that my baby Maka just accepted a vital mission to rescue a weapon-meister pair that no one had ever heard about?!"

Spirit, Lord Death's current Death Scythe, soon discovered a fountain of blood spewing as a result from a violent meeting of the Grim Reaper's humorously rectangular hand and the back of his head.

"Word does travel fast around here." Lord Death added.

The fight continued, the boy trapped in place; his body absolutely numb. Things turned hopeless fast for the boy, he had never imagined that the witch had possessed colossal amounts of power.

"Pathetic," she started, spitting on the ground when she stood near him and delicately lifting the boy's chin.

"I killed everyone... _Everyone_ in your tiny tribe." Her stare spelt murder, " And _you_, the sole survivor of that tribe, can't muster the _anger_ and _strength_ to defeat me and get _vengeance_?" She wrapped her hands on his shoulders, drawing her face closer, her voice extremely sinister and evil.

"You're a disgrace to yourself, your tribe, and your puny false gods." She exaggeratedly licked her lips, "If it was up to me, I wouldn't have granted you that foolish weapon." She pointed to the still lifeless disc-weapon that rested on the hard earth. She leapt back, leering but simultaneously trying to resist her own lust. She chuckled maniacally, as if she had trouble controlling her actions. "Your false gods decided to give you _THAT_ to _try_ and take vengeance?! HA! They _pity_ you! They don't believe that you can take justice on your tribe! You're merely a _lost cause_."

The swirls that ran around her robes glowed vibrantly. "Do you smell what's in the air?!" She shouted, her voice purely evil at this point. "I'm siphoning your energy! All of it! Soon, your organs won't have the energy needed to sustain your body and then you'll _DIE_!"

The Death Portal distorted for a moment, even it couldn't fully withstand the power of Pollutena.

"I fear that they don't have enough time. She is merely demonstrating her capability."

"Maka and Soul need to double their speed and pronto!" replied Death.

"Something's wrong." The witch whispered to herself, and after a small pause she resumed, "I suppose I've overstayed my welcome."

"You're so lucky Phoenix! You'll only have to experience a quick, painless death! I'm so envious!" She scoffed, insanity building within her.

All the meister could do was shut his eyes in trepidation of the furiously swift witch charging at him. He had no means of escape, his weapon completely disabled and no hope from his gods.

"Oh no you don't!"

"What?!" Maka effectively blocked Pollutena's attack. She wielded a large crimson scythe that represented her weapon; the eye adorned near the top handle appeared ruthless and prepared. Relief ran through the amber-colored meister, my life's probably not yet over, he thought.

The witch merely sighed with impatience, "Please excuse me, I don't need your flat-chested body to get in the way of the entertainment I was oh so having."

Maka considered her statement a direct insult and she used it to fuel her irritation. Her pigtails flowed with the slight breeze as she hastily positioned her weapon for the inevitable fight.

The lifeless disc-shaped weapon regained consciousness and transformed into a young girl no older than ten years. She was entirely transparent, only her outline was visible. A portion of the trapped novice meister was freed as well from the witch's clutches. "Banshee!" he shrieked.

Maka lunged toward the witch, but she parried effortlessly like defending herself was a chore. The girl possessed an eerie aura being entirely devoid of color.

"Allow me to unshackle you, Fireheart." She spoke with formality and with a mysterious echo.

The skilled meister forcibly stepped back, "I can't do much, Soul, her body's rough as stone." Her breathing heavy.

"We're only supposed to stall her, not do any damage." Was her reply.

"I know of a method to distract her." The slightly visible weapon, Banshee, mentioned to their rescuers. The recently freed meister stood ready nearby. Maka listened with caution, focusing on the witch while she yawned in boredom.

"Get a head start along with Fireheart, I am capable of handling the situation." Soul transformed back into the white-haired, canine-toothed human. "I'll have your word, strange weapon." He said. The veterans relayed the situation to the novice and he had no other option but to comply. After all, they are his saviors, without their interference he would be dead. They headed toward the academy.

Banshee and Pollutena were left alone, Pollutena exasperated with boredom while Banshee concentrated. The ghost-like weapon began to draw energy from her soul wavelength. She altered the energy to mimic the effect she received when the witch disabled her earlier, effectively utilizing the witch's own attack against her.

Pollutena teleported behind the weapon, but Banshee perceived this. "Your effort mocks me." The witch said, oddly calm but analytical. The weapon was her only threat that the witch cared about. Still, she was cautious not to overexert her power. Not leaving a lasting remark, the barely visible weapon started toward the trio that caught ahead, tracking the trail that was left behind and leaving the witch to bask in her own madness.

She could have easily broken free out of her own technique, but she decided that pursuing the four would be worthless and only prove risky.

The three traveled across grassy plains and rocky mountains. Banshee caught up with them.

"Will that witch follow us?" questioned the fang-toothed weapon. "No, I made sure of that." Was his answer. Soul made a note of the strange echo in her child-like voice.

Phoenix Fireheart was Banshee's meister. Nothing the novice wore spelt symmetry, the right side completely opposite of his burnt left side. While he wasn't always like this, the raiding of his old tribe altered more than his life. Along with the seemingly peaceful tribe he lived with, a part of him remained burned, both physically and mentally.

Banshee, however, wasn't always a ghost.


	2. Acceptance

**A/N: This is half the length of the first chapter and it's mostly composed of dialogue. I barely remember much of the anime but I'm rewatching like crazy and trying to catch up as soon as possible in order to make everything here factual. Tell me if I made any errors!**

* * *

"That Kishin, pathetic filth! He got away before I could smash that asymm-"

"Ah, so you all survived I take it?"

"Yes we did Lord Death." Maka replied, bowed and exited back through the frightening corridor with the guillotine-bladed ceiling. Her partner following. A black haired, white-stripped meister instantly pivoted around to see the visitors to his father's office.

"Asymmetry!" He yelled, "Look at him!" he pointed at Phoenix, who appeared quite astounded and took a defensive stance. "The ugliness! The repulsiveness! His appearance plagues the entire city! Please, father, we _must_ rid of this nonsense right now before it become irreversible!"

"Now now, son, he's new here, we'll have it sorted out in a jiffy. Don't worry too much." Lord Death said in an attempt to purify his son's mind, or at least distract him for a few moments. "The Thompsons are waiting, it's best not to make them too impatient now, right?"

Death the Kid sighed, sarcastically responding "Fine, I'll go." before dragging himself out of the room, careful not to get within a certain proximity of Phoenix.

"H-He's your son? But aren't you..." Phoenix curiously asked.

"Yes, he is, he goes to the academy, the same one you'll be joining in a few minutes." Lord Death spun his levitating chair around and made himself visible to the newcomers. His appearance startled the amateur but the ghost-weapon remained neutral in her emotions.

"You're the... The Grim Reaper?" He stuttered, noting the rather rectangular mask-like face and cartoonish figure of Death. The room itself felt accommodating to the Reaper's appearance.

"And you're Phoenix Fireheart I'm assuming?"

"How do you know?"

"Because the witch Pollutena said it was your name! Unless you had a quick name change before you arrived, hmm?" Before Phoenix could say anything, he added onto his statement, "Talking about her, you two have a lot of history I'm presuming, judging by how you both reacted to each other. How did you encounter her in such a desolate region?" Lord Death, interested, leaned forward. He was much taller than Phoenix.

"I was traveling with my companion to search for equipment and supplies. I haven't gotten a night's rest in days. We happened to cross paths and I just wasn't on fire during that time."

"Yes, yes, that is very dire indeed. I must ask though, where did you come across the weapon?"

"She's not a weapon!" Phoenix exclaimed, feeling protective of his ghostly partner. "I was extremely blessed to be able to travel with her. She transforms into a chakram to which I can wield her like a blade and with that we can protect ourselves from dangers like thieves and bandits on our travels. She is my guide."

"I see, interesting to the highest degree." The Grim Reaper turned back around. "And it allowed you to fend off the witch. I must say, you two have talent to be able to hold yourselves up to a witch like that!"

"Thanks, but I should be the one thanking you sir, uhh, Grim Reaper, without your minions I wouldn't be alive."

Remembering about the conflict, Lord Death questioned the boy, "Tell me, Phoenix, the witch is important, right?" He nodded. "Do you want to kill her?"

There wasn't a reply.

"Phoenix?" The novice raised his head, his eyes misty and his hands clenched in furiousness. He was visibly shaken. "She killed my tribe, my family, and my life. She doesn't deserve to live." Lord Death pivoted back to facing him, noting his reaction whenever he mentioned the witch.

"We can train you so you can do that, Phoenix. This is the DWMA, my students prepared to fight evils such as the witch you encountered. If you stay, you will be trained to handle various types of situations like the one you experienced earlier, but if you choose not to stay, then we can't help you." The Reaper's voice sounded serious.

This felt like a once-in-a-lifetime chance for Phoenix. He would have the opportunity to hone his skill and receive shelter, food, and warmth. There was no way he could turn this down. He thought about his family, his older brother that cared for him his entire life and he thought about his small but prosperous tribe. Nobody else knew about it, the area secluded from the rest of society, but Phoenix loved it there, it was his life and he enjoyed hunting the deer, chopping the wood and participating in rituals every season. He thought about what they would have said to him right now, to take the grand opportunity and hunt for more than game, to assist and aid the world and rid it of the evils that plague it. His family would have wanted that for him.

Now that his family isn't alive anymore, he didn't know what to do. His life inevitably severed and was hanging on a tiny thread, a thread of hope. Maybe that killing the witch would yield answers to the questions that surged his mind. Questions that haunted every minute of him, he wanted those answered. The DWMA, he thought, could be that one vital step he would take in order to take vengeance for his tribe and he would be at peace.

"Yes," Phoenix lightly said, "I will join."


End file.
